


disproven

by nagase (machogwapito)



Series: Advent Calendar 2015 [1]
Category: TOKIO, V6 (Band)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, semi-au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-01
Updated: 2015-12-01
Packaged: 2018-05-04 10:17:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5330480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/machogwapito/pseuds/nagase
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is Yoshihiko's favourite way to wake up in the morning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	disproven

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [advent calendar project thing](http://kurokouchi.livejournal.com/6157.html) for the prompt 'sheets' given by my girlfriend. In a world where Inocchi didn't get married...

Yoshihiko's never been a morning person. Nobody really knows this on account of how joyful he is the rest of the day--all smiles and laughs and boundless energy--but waking up is a chore unless he's woken up right. And, honestly, being woken up _right_ is one of the rarest things in the entire world, second only to perhaps a wise politician or finding a beautiful cabbage at half price in the vegetable bin.

There's only one way to wake him up in such a way that won't have him grumbling, and it's through rustling sheets and careful motions, and through lips tracing his temple, his cheek, and the curve of his shoulder.

And, most importantly, a rasping, groggy, happy little "Yocchan, good morning."

Yoshihiko isn't a morning person, but Tomoya is. Tomoya who cuddles up to him despite being taller by miles, and Tomoya who tucks his head under Yoshihiko's chin just so he can kiss the column of his neck and wind his arms around him, fingers curled into the back of his shirt.

When Yoshihiko wakes up to normalcy, he gets grumpy.

When Yoshihiko wakes up to Tomoya, he's blasted open with awe.

It's not very often that Yoshihiko is rendered speechless, but seeing Tomoya's messy hair, sleepy eyes, and the dried path of drool down the corner of his mouth always does so without fail. Gone are whatever stupid anecdotes he might make, blown like the wind in the wake of Tomoya's eager expression, and all Yoshihiko can do instead is smile because Tomoya is soft and kind and sweeter than candy.

The blankets rustle around them when Yoshihiko moves, albeit sluggish and lazy. Tomoya's back rests against the mattress and his lips part--plush and warm and inviting, and who is Yoshihiko to refuse?

Every motion is small, careful as if he were dealing with fragile china, and amidst the soft sounds of their lips moving and their tongues touching, the only other noises in the room come from Tomoya's songbird throat and the movement of cloth around them.

"Mmph--"

Yoshihiko pulls back at the little grunt, blinking twice. "What is it?"

"We taste like _shit_ ," Tomoya answers in a half-whine, but all Yoshihiko can do in turn is laugh and touch their foreheads together.

"That's called morning breath, Tomo."

"Well! Morning breath tastes like _shit_ , Yocchan!"

Yoshihiko lifts his head again to take in the very deliberate, very real pout on Tomoya's face, and then pinches both his cheeks and pulls. The resulting squirming is expected, and so too are Tomoya's useless, slapping hands, but unexpected is the way Tomoya brings his weight up to roll them over, the sheets wrapping around them even more acutely as two forearms rest on either side of Yoshihiko's head.

Now Yoshihiko's being kissed, though whatever lethargy they might've shared earlier is wiped away by the sheer energy that pours out of the man above him in waves. Tomoya's back is arched--he can feel it--and the almost shy press of their hips together has Yoshihiko taking in a breath he's sure Tomoya can feel between their lips. The grin pressed to his mouth is a perfect indication of that.

When Tomoya pulls away and drags his knuckles down the curve of Yoshihiko's cheek, his eyes are warm and molten, and Yoshihiko's arms wrap around his middle to pull him down entirely.

Another rustle of the sheets leaves them with Tomoya's head on Yoshihiko's chest and an 'I love you' written into the cotton of his sleep shirt.

Yoshihiko in turn traces patterns on Tomoya's back, and he murmurs his own 'I love you too' into the hair on his head.

He's a Tomoya person, he realises. And that's the best kind of person to be.


End file.
